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Retribution Nor Redemption	By : wickedorin Category: Final Fantasy VIII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 623 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VIII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
"Retribution Nor Redemption" and the general overall
concept of "Retribution Nor Redemption" is completely copyright Orin Drake
2002-2005, as are the characters Kyrie Leonhart and Rodger Kinneas.
The characters Seifer Almasy, Squall Leonhart, Quistis Trepe, Ellone (Leonhart?),
Laguna Loire and Rinoa "The Great Big Bitch" Heartily (biased? me?) are
copyright Squaresoft, as are the terms SeeD, gunblade, Trabia Garden, Griever,
and probably a lot of other stuff I forgot to mention. Hell, if you
played the game, you know. Enough said.

        Background:
Well. Here is the "anticipated" sequel to The Sins of Two Fathers.
This won't be as much action as it will be psychological warfare, I think.
Don't know what else to tell you. Beware bad language, sexuality
and social outcasts having fun regardless of their status at the expense
of others.

Retribution Nor Redemption

Chapter 7

by Orin Drake
        For a short moment, she pondered
venturing into the main room and making the attempt at watching television--for
a couple of days in a row, so she'd be so damn tired by the end of it that
she wouldn't remember any dreams at all.

        But it wasn't merely a dream.
She knew that. It was a memory, and Jenova may have had everything
or nothing to do with it. She suspected it was certainly partially
that bitch's fault, though.

        No, if she went in to watch
TV she'd just be questioned. Then they'd worry. Even more.
Sleep didn't seem like the best option, however. Things were spiraling
quickly. Far too fucking fast for her to hang on much longer.
It was a frightening thought on its own, but even more so at this time
in the morning.

        "Fucking Jenova."
She whispered to herself with a sigh. "If you had any real power..."
she paused, wondering where the hell she was going with that. Obviously,
the bitch did have power. At this point it seemed to be only
over her, but that had proven to be effective for the time being.
There was no way to end that sentence that didn't sound like a really stupid
challenge. It was probably best to just... not get into it.

        Maybe she ought to go to
the bathroom. Although, she didn't really have to. And it probably
wasn't the best place to go anyway, right? If the mirror were fixed,
she just might break it again. Just about anything seemed a better
choice than just... staying where she was. The room didn't feel safe.

        But then, nothing felt safe.
Nothing felt... right. In fact, everything felt cold again, like
there was a draft. A cold draft in a suite on what was supposed to
be a warm day. Come to think of it, her hands were starting to tingle
like the blood flow had been mildly restricted, and her heart was beating
faster than it really ought to be...

        Shit. The single
word blurred through her mind as she tried to get out of the bed.
Where she was going to go, what she was going to do, didn't matter.
It was a desperate fleeing from whatever she could find to get away from.
Of course, it didn't work. She'd moved too late or not enough, and
the very muscles of her body seemed to give out under their own weight,
collapsing her back to the bed.

        "If I had any real power..?"
grated cruelly through her mind. "Another demonstration is in
order."

        Before there was any chance
to respond, absolute fucking agony attacked her head. It wasn't
like a headache, though it did somehow resemble a migraine (she'd never
had one, but she sure knew what it felt like now). No, it was a pain
that was beyond the physical. It was godawful, as if the very fabric
of her brain was being torn apart by a million shards of Hyne knew what;
ripping, bleeding, tearing. There was suddenly no sight, no sound,
but there was sure as hell a beating heart that wasn't right. She
didn't know how or why, but... it was there. Something that felt
almost like Materia, but so vicious, so out of place. All of her
senses collapsed in on that sensation, rending thoughts at random.

        She wondered briefly--when
she was able--if this was how Seifer felt when Ultimecia had been in control
of him. He'd never spoken much of it... Everything was drowned
out this way; even the thought, the wondering, of her father didn't come
through the first few times she attempted to think it. Something
seemed to be eating at her mind, scratching away through her skull.

        And then, as suddenly as
it had come, it melted. It didn't stop, but it... melted--into a
memory that was familiar, but not hers. It was through something
else, someone else's eyes again...

        Squall. Chained up
and looking right at her--but she wasn't her. This was stronger than
even the dream; she felt, only for an instant, Jenova's proverbial hand
shoving her over the edge.

        "Dad!" she tried
to scream. Nothing would happen. Nothing would obey.
The look in his eyes was absolute horror under vicious hatred. Then
she realized whose eyes she was gazing out of. No, no, not again...
Her conscious being seemed to crawl into a corner, begging this picture
to stop before it even began. But there was no stopping it.
It rolled on, forcing her to see everything, forcing her to live
every moment.

        She couldn't stop it.
She couldn't even look away. All of her senses--all nerves, all vision,
all feeling--was tied to this experience. It was like... it
was like she were doing it to her own father... She had to remind
herself that it wasn't her several times, but that didn't help matters
in the least. Regardless of being aware enough to know she was not
doing this, not causing this, she was still forced to experience it.
Every motion, every casual thought of that madman, the very anticipation
of the--

        "No!" she tried shouting.
When that didn't work, she chanted it in her head over and over--but that
didn't help, either. She was watching, and she was feeling... oh
Hyne, she felt herself/himself...

        No. Fuck no.
Not like that, not in...

        But she quickly found that
it was far from over. Increasingly horrified, she watched as Sephiroth
butchered Squall's eye. And maybe even worse... maybe much, much
worse...

        "You belong (gasp), in
a pile (pant), of your own (gasp), blood (breath hitches), and shit (hiss),
Almasy (shiver)."

        She had never known it was
possible to sob insanely inside of your own head--if it was her
own. It was so hard to tell. So hard to tell anything.
Darkness overcame her, and for that she could never have been more grateful.
But for the memories, for those experiences--

        "You didn't even shed
a tear..." she heard Sephiroth's voice musing as the darkness gave
way. "Not an ounce of sorrow." Even the mental vice
that was Jenova's calling card gave way almost tenderly, releasing her
back into what she hesitated to call "reality".

        Light. The light of
late morning or early afternoon--she'd been "out" for a while. She
closed her eyes to it, not quite willing to see that particular cheery
shining luminance right now. So sick. Hyne, she felt so horribly
sick to her stomach. Everything felt tense, cringed, without any
desire to be in any other state of being. No desire to live.
What she'd seen, been forced to live through... she shivered.

        "How could you do that to
my fucking parents?" she asked nothing in particular. How
the hell could she retain any ounce of sanity after all of that?
She just couldn't get the images out of her head regardless of how utterly
awful they were...

        Oh fucking agony of Hyne's
first blood... She put a hand across her face to block out everything
her eyes could offer her. At this rate, she'd be broken down quickly.
And she may not even know it. She could just... slip away from them,
and they might not be able to tell. Not until it was too late; too
late to save her, too late to save themselves. Who the fuck knew--possibly
the world.

        It was scary. She
was... more afraid than she thought she had ever been. She had no
idea what to do. She didn't even know if she was really awake.
Shit, she didn't even know if she ever had been all of her life.
She prayed for the sake of her friends that she was just in an institution
somewhere.

        That thought made her laugh
bitterly. It wouldn't matter. Reality was a personal thing,
not some grand "ultra real thing". She was far too angry for tears,
but too scared to lash out. There was no need to lash out, anyway.
It wasn't anyone's fault but her own. And that sucked even more.

        She felt a solid weight
settle at the end of the bed. For a moment her heart beat painfully
fast, wondering... But then, nothing could make it worse than it
was. Sure it would keep eating away at her, but... at least maybe
something would kill it. Or kill her. Eventually. She
slowly pulled her hands away from her eyes and peered toward the foot of
the bed.

        Vincent sat there somberly,
his legs hanging off of her side so he could face her. There were
long seconds of just that silent glance, taking everything in. When
he did speak, it was more softly than she ever remembered. "It's
getting worse, isn't it?"

        "Yeah." She admitted.
It was all she could think of to say, really. But unplanned words
flowed past her lips as well. "I don't think I can handle this."

        He swallowed, slowly and
reflectively. Maybe she was looking for words of wisdom. But
he was afraid he didn't really have any. He understood, but that
offered so little comfort. He'd only gone through so much of what
she had, but he could certainly imagine. He didn't want to, but he
could. He slowly drew his flesh and blood hand through his hair,
trying to think of anything he could say to her at all. This
emotion stuff was kind of bothersome, wasn't it?

        "Don't worry about it."
She broke the silence. "I can't think of anything I'd say to me,
either."

        Silence reacted. It
was a painful quiet, uneasy in a way like no other. He wished he
knew of something to say that would be of any comfort at all. Possibly
something stupid or funny. Anything. A knock knock joke, even.

        "Vincent?" she asked finally,
her voice exceedingly fragile.

        He didn't answer right away.
Her tone was... different. Almost like she was ready to surrender
right then. Cold chills ran through even his metal hand at the sound
of her voice. "Yes?"

        She thought the request
over for a moment, wondering just how smart it was to voice, let alone
honestly and truly want and ask for. "Could we... spend some time
at the house instead of here?"

        "Your house?" he asked,
already knowing the answer. When she didn't respond, that was the
affirmative he was looking for. Well... what a request. Easy
to do, of course. Not that big of a deal. But worrisome.
The girl that never surrendered was asking to go home. He prayed
silently that it was not to give up and die. "I think we can do that.
Today. There is something else I'm worried about, though."

        She groaned quietly.
She didn't want to know. She didn't want him to speak anymore all
of a sudden. For once she felt that smooth, exotic voice would bring
her nothing but agony. Regardless, she was not one to be rude to
him. "What?"

        "We've got to do something
about Rodger. I think he has a crush on me."

        Through the pain, the aggravation,
the insanity and the over-all absolute abuse and destruction of her mind
and her world--she laughed. She covered her eyes with her
hands as though she might cry, and she laughed. Would it be a
real sign of flying off the deep end to say that I loved you, Vincent?

        He grinned softly, just
glad to be of some help. "I'll get packed."

        "Thank you." She slowly
recovered from the giggling fits.

        He nodded and stood, then
walked out the door. There was the murmuring outside of other voices;
Vincent's matter-of-fact tone, then a surprised something or other from
Cloud. Rodger had said something monotone, but Vincent's response
sounded hopeful. She wished she could make out the words, but they
were just too quiet. She wasn't sure she'd have wanted to hear any
of it, anyway. Looked like she was going home for a little while.

        She closed her eyes, thinking
that request over. Why had she even wanted that? Just to have
a familiar place to find comfort in? It was as good a reason as any.
She liked the suite and everything, but... it wasn't exactly the comforts
of home. Damn close with a big screen and all the video games she
could imagine, though. It was too close to Laguna, too; she didn't
want him to have to be stricken with the idea that he could see her in
the hallway all of a sudden or anything. Sure it was unlikely, but
she knew how he thought. He didn't need the added stress.

        At least the house could
get trashed and there wouldn't be any international incidents, as well.
She didn't expect anything of the sort to happen, but... just in case.
Kinda sucked to have to think that way. She'd had quite a bit of
freedom in that regard, letting Garden worry about everything. Sure
it was far better to be free of that place, but other people planning
things and being in charge felt almost like a luxury now.

        Being on "the outside"
is better, though. She reminded herself. It was almost
a laughable thought to have wished for time to reverse, just a little bit.
She had no idea where this was going, or what would become of her let alone
any of them--

        "Hey." Rodger called
softly from the doorway.

        It was a pleasant interruption
from the runaway train of her thoughts. Enough of one to make her
sit up and smile a little. She looked over his shoulder to see if
either of the others would follow him in, but they were nowhere to be seen.
No
doubt within sprinting distance... she bit back a sour expression at
the idea. Jenova may be badly drained, but she was not dead.
It may well take very little strength to just reach out and--she threw
that thought down and stamped on it, forcing that smile to remain more
than she'd have liked.

        He knew. There was
no way he could not have known after having been with her for so long.
He said nothing of it, however, knowing that there was no point to that
sort of conversation. Life was too short. Possibly even shorter--and
he'd really rather not have to think about that. Instead, he sat
next to her and took in the grateful silence for a moment. "I'm kind
of relieved that you'd rather be at the house." He admitted.

        Hyne, she was even afraid
to hold his hand. Hers rested inches above his, unable to advance
or retreat. He actually made the move, pulling the floating hand
between his freely. It might be his suicide, but a little contact
was so fucking necessary.

        She took a deep breath,
a touch relieved. "It'd be more comfortable for all of us, I think."

        He nodded, pulling her hand--and
her--just a little closer. "Vincent said it was progressing.
That something would happen soon."

        She blinked, noting that
his tone was more of scientific, matter-of-fact curiosity rather than fear
or worry. She actually appreciated that a lot. "Yeah.
I think he's right." She shivered with the crashing memories of mere
moments before; living memories showed to her through the eyes of that
megalomanical "god" that she was truly beginning to hate.
It was only distaste and anger at first, but now... hatred shone through
that a million times brighter.

        Rodger swallowed, watching
her eyes closely. Her hand had contracted with something, some thought--he
just needed to know that it wasn't Jenova's control. The first time
was nerve-wracking enough. "I wish... at least that I could go through
it with you."

        She shivered again, but
felt an unforced smile at the edges of her lips. No, I don't think
you really do. Not if you knew what it entailed. "And I
wish I could stop it. Just... make it go away."

        He sighed quietly.
The most awful feeling in the world was helplessness, he'd come to realize.
He wasn't about to let either of them lose hope, however. "You'll
pull through. Otherwise, it'd be such a waste of time and effort."

        "Humph. Nice to be
thought of." She kissed him lightly on the cheek, glad for the perk
he offered. As she pulled back, the thought crossed her mind: Hyne,
if that was our last kiss, that kinda sucked. Surprising the
hell out of him, she leaned forward and offered a much better example of
affection.

        Vincent stepped in through
the doorway, stopping short at the scene. Rodger looked to be both
surprised and completely limp with the kiss, while Kyrie was putting all
of her heart into it. He just leaned on the door frame and tried
to keep in a chuckle, waiting for one of them to take a breath. At
last Kyrie pulled back, leaving her victim dazed and slack-jawed.
At that point, the voyeur cleared his throat. "If you two are done,
shall we get going?"

        Rodger... couldn't really
respond. So, his girlfriend spoke for him. "I guess we're more
or less ready. Well, after I get dressed."

        "Please do. But I'll
take the boy, if you don't mind. Your siren's song has done enough
already, I think." Vincent grinned.

        "Damn." Kyrie sighed
overdramatically.

        "Yes." Rodger said
finally. "I need... to be outside."

        The "siren" gave him a wicked
little expression, then indicated he go ahead with a nod. "I'll only
be a minute."

        "So will I." Rodger
murmured under his breath, just barely loud enough for her to hear.
He walked past Vincent without eye contact, heading straight for the bathroom.

        She could not help
the giggles. She couldn't stop them, she couldn't silence them.
Even after Vincent had closed the door with a shake of his head, even through
getting a clean set of clothes on. They persisted as Rodger walked
out of the bathroom with a lopsided smirk, and even off and on as they
were walking the hallways to get to the train.

        "Am I missing something?"
Cloud finally asked.

        "Many things." Vincent
assured. He only grinned vaguely when the blonde stared at him.

        Vincent had hurried to arrange
a train. He'd wound up getting them a single room, very small private
car. It wasn't that his authority was lacking--it was simply that
he'd arranged for the first possible train out. It wasn't like they
needed anything fancy, anyway. It was a very short trip.

        Cloud stared out the window
the whole time, refamiliarizing himself with the landscape. It's
not as if all that much had changed since he'd been gone; in fact, all
of the little towns on the outskirts looked pretty much exactly the same.
That was a conscious effort on Laguna's part (regardless of some of the
politicians being annoyed by that little fact). He'd always felt
strongly about the little towns staying little towns. The city of
Esthar was a mecca, and that was enough.

        The train trip was nice
and relaxing--getting the car back was the aggravating part. Alright,
sure; so it had been parked a little bit longer than what had initially
paid for. It shouldn't have been that big of a deal. Kyrie
paid the rest with her big fancy card with her name on it in gold letters,
after all. Hell, she had three people to vouch for her... although
if they'd been asked to give a reason for why she was so late picking the
car up, they'd have had quite a bit of fun with it. Luckily the plastic
took care of everything quite easily. It was the name on the card
and the pendant around her neck--the clerk reacted with a wide-eyed apology.
Sometimes it paid to be a Leonhart, alright.

        The actual drive was quite
comfortable (regardless of Cloud's insistence that yes, he could drive,
coming loudly from the back seat). Not too many people crowding the
main roads, and absolutely no one on the rarely used offshoots that lead
to the house. That was why her parents had decided that was a good
location, though. It was comfortably away from everything and ultimately
off a road that didn't resemble a road at all. After all that time,
though, she'd learned exactly where to swerve to best avoid a damaged axle.
Hey, it was her turn to drive, dammit.

        It felt to Kyrie like it'd
been a million years since she'd been inside, let alone used the key.
As soon as the knob was turned and the door opened, she felt an overwhelming
sense of... well, home. A little comfort in that, really. The
way the light hit through the partially transparent drapes, the smell of
wood and metal that was specifically that house regardless of how
much it was cleaned or rearranged... it felt good.

        It was the first time Vincent
had been in the place since it had been a mess of boxes weeks previous,
and of course the first time for Cloud at all. They both stopped
suddenly between the foyer and the living room, noting what adorned the
wall across the way. Masamune. And the Buster Sword.
Crossed one over the other (latter over former) and mounted at high eye
level. Not in a gaudy, trophy way, though. There was a deep
blue strip of silk that looped around, between and hung from them that
Cloud instantly recognized as a rather ancient sign of respect for a weapon
put to rest. Crossed over and displayed as they were... he felt a
little honor and pride in that, honestly. An appropriate entrance
decoration, certainly.

        Kyrie couldn't help a little
proud smile, herself. It was all her doing, her idea. What
the hell else would she do with two legendary swords? Put them in
boxes in a closet somewhere? Maybe when she was damn good and ready
(or dead), she'd offer them to a history museum to ponder over. Hell,
many chunks of history had been lost along the way--it should blow some
minds.

        "I'm only assuming most
of the stuff in the fridge is still good." She announced, looking
over a small assortment of miraculously surviving house plants. "So
if anyone wants anything..."

        Cloud moved right away toward
the kitchen. He may have never been in the place before, but he always
knew where the food was kept. It was some sense he'd developed long
ago, caused by what was referred to as "rations". He still believed,
and would always believe, it was just pressed and colored sawdust.
"What's this?" he called, waving a randomly selected container.

        "Probably something you'd
eat." She responded jokingly before turning to Vincent. "Feel
free to grab a bedroom and make yourself comfortable."

        He shook his head politely.
"The two of you each ought to have a bedroom."

        A sudden explosion of coughing
came from the kitchen. When it ended, Cloud called out, "The milk's
bad."

        Rodger sighed and rolled
his
eyes with good humor, taking momentary leave of the conversation to join
the blonde's excursion into the refrigerator. Someone had
to be the "responsible one".

        Kyrie cast her eyes downward
for a moment, feeling just the slightest bit of agitation well up again
as she continued the conversation with Vincent. "I kind of assumed
it might be best if I was more or less a floor away from everyone."

        Maybe she had a point there.
But honestly, they may or may not be able to "hear it coming", as it were.
"Well, we'll work something out."

        Something in the kitchen
was whispered. Then suddenly Cloud peeked his head out, brimming
with excitement. "You can cook?"

        Kyrie's eyes narrowed at
her grinning boyfriend, standing off to the side and waving with only his
fingertips. "You bastard."

        Vincent shook his head at
his old companion. "How about we just get something delivered so
we can all relax?"

        "There aren't that many
places that will come all the way out here." Kyrie admitted.
There was the downside to "the boonies".

        "I'll pay." The red-eyed
man offered.

        "Well, in that case..."

        In a location where the choices
include pizza, pizza, pizza and sandwiches, you may think that the choice
is obvious. But there was just something about pizza--its essence,
its simplicity. And it was just good. Kyrie made no excuses
to hide the fact she'd pick pizza over the finest foods in the world.
Lucky for Vincent's account, anyway. The invention of those heat
trapping devices for transport sure helped for a long trip, too.
The delivery boy had the shit scared out of him by a man with a claw and
red eyes, but he got a big tip and everyone else got a little laugh out
of it.

        "No wonder no one likes
us." Kyrie commented, getting the plates.

        "It's just that no one likes
you."
Vincent quipped. "We're disliked by association."

        While home offered great
comfort and nice amenities, it was regretful that they did not have a big
screen television, or a state of the art video game system. Just
hadn't been at the top of things to do before moving in, really.
They amused themselves through pizza with stupid sitcoms, and afterward
with slightly older racing games and miraculously outdated shooters.

        "What the hell was that?"
Cloud asked at one point.

        "A fireball." Kyrie
answered, watching. Pits of Agrian was one of her very first
video games. It introduced her to the concept of going through level
after level, castle after castle, and being told that she'd have to go
yet further to save whoever the hell it was she was supposed to be saving.
All she knew was that there was a lot of jumping and shooting fireballs
involved.

        Cloud shook his head.
"It didn't sound like a fireball." Everyone else laughed while
Cloud still insisted that it was the truth.

        After everyone had taken
several turns and gotten sick of hearing that their princess was in another
castle, they let bad sitcoms do the entertaining for them. Well,
save for the shouting at the screen, which never failed to have some entertainment
value.

        Kyrie only realized after
a particularly unflattering semi-nude shower scene focusing on a very unattractive
(but "realistic" and "gritty") man that she hadn't taken a shower that
morning. She wasn't usually one to forget something like that.
But then, they had just sort of rushed out of the place. It'd be
nice to take a shower at home, just for the sake of doing so. Yeah,
she was a bit of a clean freak. But she liked it that way.
It was only halfway through the evening, and the thought of waiting until
morning was not so appealing all of a sudden. "Would anyone object
to me taking my leave and showering about now?"

        "Please do." Rodger
joked, seeing his opportunity.

        Sitting right next to him,
it was an easy reach to find the spot just under the back of his knee that
was insanely sensitive to tickling. He squirmed under her expert
touch until he cried out, "Okay! Alright! Stop!"

        Instantly, she did so, behaving
as if she'd never done it in the first place. Indeed she looked quite
pleased with herself. "Anyone else have anything to say?"

        Cloud looked mildly horrified
with that display, actually. Vincent tried to suppress the threatening
grin, shaking his head solemnly.

        How she wished she was able
to enjoy the thought of being upstairs naked when Rodger and Vincent were
downstairs... Unfortunately there was a little matter of growing
increasingly insane to worry about. And then the picture of Cloud
looking ungodly disgusted--making her laugh more than anything. She
made sure the water was turned up hot, then waited.

        No doubt she was being discussed,
below. That didn't really bother her so much. She needed as
much space from them as they did from her, she imagined. Not that
she wanted to block them out or anything, but in this point in time the
small moments of space and silence were treasured just as much as all of
them being together. It was all really kind of odd being in the house
again. With everyone, anyway. She wondered for a moment how
differently things might be handled if her parents were still alive.

        No point in that.
She reminded herself, testing the temperature. Then this wouldn't
be happening in the first place. Maybe.

        Climbing inside and sliding
the door shut behind her, she simply tried to relax in the stream of water.
It was so hot that it very nearly hurt--but that was kind of the idea.
Just to knock her back to the "here and now". She readjusted the
flow to be a little more comfortable, then wet her hair down. Showers
always did feel good. The ritual of shedding and bathing, perhaps.
It just felt... good. Open. Nice.

        "All the comforts of home."
She heard as clearly as though it were spoken right next to her--but she
knew that voice too well. Sephiroth.

        With that knowledge came
the melting of time and space--a mini time compression of the mind.
Everything was there, and then everything just wasn't.
Darkness fell like the very sun had died, and she felt her body fall away
like a dead shell. Dammit.

        "You almost seem... disappointed."
The man's voice continued in the darkness.

        "You could say that."
She dared to raise a hand in front of her face, just to see what would
happen. Amazingly, it was there. She could see it and herself,
as if everything but her body had disappeared. Another mind fuck,
obviously--but a damn convincing one.

        Looking back up, Sephiroth's
body was suddenly in front of her, just as she remembered it. The
pale flesh, silver hair, black leather outfit; and those goddamn vicious
green cat eyes. His lips turned into a knowing grin, looking her
up and down hungrily. "Your little dare this morning has left Mother
a bit drained. So she sent me to keep you in line. And I am
glad she did."

        "Fantastic." She spat
flatly.

        "You don't seem happy to
see me." He took a step closer, the universe seeming to constrict
along with his movement.

        It made Kyrie feel trapped
and claustrophobic. Much worse than a vast field of black nothingness
was a tiny enclosure of it. Regardless, she kept her thoughts clear.
If he was here to talk, she'd try to get some fucking sense made out of
this. At least it may help her or Vincent to figure out exactly what
was going on. "Why would you bother 'visiting' at all?"

        He tried to look offended
for a short moment in time. "Well, we wouldn't want anyone to get
hurt now, would we?"

        "Like you give a fuck who
gets hurt." Of all the ludicrous gaul...

        "Such language!" he laughed.
"Jenova blood, Sorceress blood, and your stubborn willpower. It makes
for a pretty interesting combination." He leered again, watching
every little reaction.

        She didn't even notice the
look, really. "Sorceress blood has no bearing on anything."
She corrected, feeling somewhat exhausted. It wouldn't matter what
she did or what she said--he'd still be a prick. And she'd just have
to deal with it for the time being.

        "Not in this time and place."
He agreed, his mood shifting to a calm seriousness. "But Jenova can
use it. The Materia know how to use it. And it connects us."

        "How could it possibly..?"
and then it hit her, hard and painfully.

        He spoke the thought for
her. "We exchanged blood, remember? We are linked.
Through myself, Jenova can get to you."

        She remembered how pissed
she'd been when he'd hit her with that belt initially, having her imprisoned
in that Inn four years ago. It was nothing compared to how pissed
she was right then and there, however. She couldn't have known the
implications of biting him, let alone... It was just damn aggravating.
She wished she'd have at least known enough to tear off a finger or something.
"Is that why I see your memories?"

        His insane grin returned,
brighter than ever. "You would see them, regardless. You experience
them because of our link."

        She closed her eyes, unable
to contain that shiver. Oh she was so utterly exasperated with herself,
let alone this bastard. "I can't stand to see any of your atrocities
again."

        She was suddenly knee-deep
in his infamous flaming glare. That look alone had brought down hundreds
of soldiers in its time. His voice grew even more harsh, even lower
than she ever remembered it being. "You only have to experience sections
from time to time. I have to
live it all. I have to
live everything, over and over again." Point made, his voice
shifted back to its usually overconfident self. "But not for much
longer."

        Cold. That damned
raging cold took her body like Shiva's ice. So cold it burned--so
cold she could feel the sweat begin to bead at the back of her neck even
in this unreal place. "What do you mean?"

        "Jenova is... 'transferring'."
His sudden and complete smile was devastating. "She'd rather use
you than me. So I think I may be freed from these memories soon."

        If she had been standing
under her own power all this time, she realized that she could no longer.
It was like a train had crashed into her, leaving her alive and aware of
every passing second. "Jenova is transferring." A truly
terrifying thought. Just what it meant, what it entailed--she wasn't
sure she wanted to know. Maybe if she were lucky her mind would shatter
long before that. She'd be just as happy-go-lucky insane as the man
before her.

        His voice softened suddenly,
seeing the terror in her reaction. "Don't take this the wrong way,
of course, but... better you than myself."

        Asshole. She
understood. She certainly didn't say so, but she understood.
And, strangely, she didn't really blame him for thinking that way.
He'd spent a long, long time living under Jenova--but that sure as fucking
hell didn't justify any of this. Anger replaced fear, but
it did nothing to steady her.

        Instantly, in a flash beyond
what her eyes could see, she was in the shower again, leaning safely against
the tile under the running water. It was so tempting to sob until
she made herself sick--the shower water would wash the tears away.
She could pretend afterward like it never happened.

        No. She couldn't do
that. That'd almost be like admitting defeat. She just didn't
do that. She gladly retained Seifer's moronic cockiness and Squall's
insane but closely kept belief that everything would work out in the end,
thank you. Turning the water off, she carefully made sure her legs
were steady before grasping for the towel. This time she didn't so
much as glance near the mirror. It probably wouldn't happen again,
especially not after what had just occurred, but... the mere thought of
gazing back from/into green eyes was far too unpleasant. She wouldn't
chance it. As much as she was beginning to think she might prefer
to go off the deep end before this shit got "really" serious, she'd more
like to have retained her sanity for as long as possible.

        A knock interrupted.
Instead of shouting, she merely opened the door. Hey, she was wrapped
in a towel. No big deal.

        And of all the luck--Vincent
actually looked surprised for once. Really and truly.
She grinned at that reaction, glad to be the one to have stricken it from
him. "Yes?"

        He tried so very hard to
compose himself in a matter of a fraction of a second. It was already
too late to pretend not to have been caught by surprise, but it wasn't
too late to pretend that it simply hadn't happened at all. "I was
just checking on you." He remarked naturally.

        Could she blame a towel
slip on being insane, she wondered... Nah. There was freak
and there was freak. She didn't want to freak him out;
he was a friend and she'd have liked it to remain that way. She smiled
regardless, knowing that just for one split second in time she had caught
him utterly off guard. And, dammit, if she didn't have so much to
worry about... "Oh, I'm okay." The smile fell as quickly as
it had appeared as she continued. "But... I think I do have more
to tell."

        He swallowed, completely
forgetting what had transpired seconds earlier. "More information?"

        "Yeah." She breathed
painfully. "It's gotten worse... but I think that can wait until
I get dressed."

        It wasn't even meant as
a joke this time. He nodded, saying nothing more before walking back
down the stairs.

        She sighed, darting across
the hall to get some clothes. Placing yet more weight on her friends...
it didn't seem right. But then, neither did keeping this from them.
If they could help, if there was anything that could be done, she
wanted it to have a possibility of working.

        When she walked down the
stairs, she found they'd already converged at the kitchen table.
It was as good a place as any. And it would allow them all to face
one another. It just sort of seemed important.

        Kyrie sat in her apparently
appointed seat, watching the not so eager looks of anticipation.
She started out very bluntly, just getting to the point. "Sephiroth
said that Jenova was 'transferring'." She paused to let the mild
shiver pass so it wouldn't weaken her voice. "He said... she'd prefer
me over him."

        Terrified looks were exchanged
over the table. The implications...

        Vincent dared the first
obvious question. "What would happen to Sephiroth?"

        Kyrie shook her head, finding
eye contact impossible at the moment. "He said he might be freed
from his memories. But that was all."

        "What do we do?" Rodger
asked quietly. It was directed toward everyone, Hyne included.

        The old comrades retained
eye contact for a long time. At last Cloud broke it off, looking
a little defeated. Vincent answered as best he could. "There's
really nothing we can do."

        It's all on my head now.
Kyrie held back, almost tasting the blood from her bitten lip. She
stopped just in time to prevent the skin breaking, but it made no difference.
She could still taste the blood, and it brought on yet more out of control
trains of thought. She sighed deeply, raggedly, letting nothing out
but breath. It hurt. It was tense. It felt... ugh, it
felt beyond awful. "So you'd all rather just... wait and watch, or
what?"

        Cloud cringed a little at
the tone of her voice. The admission felt like a surrender.
"I don't really think we have any other options right now."

        Resting on the table, she
curled her hand up, the finger nails actually leaving trails in the wood.
It was fucking frustrating. "This would be easier if I knew I were
dying." She murmured.

        Vincent felt his stomach
curl into the farthest reaches of his body. Her words struck the
breath from him, but the idea was by far worse. "Quite frankly..."
he trailed off quietly, forcing her to meet his eyes for just a second.

        "Yeah, I know." She
sighed, understanding his train of thought. If something did happen,
if something big took place... they'd have to kill her. They'd have
no choice. It was really a damn good thing they were in the house
rather than the Presidential Estate.

        Only then did Cloud and
Rodger get the picture, and they both stared at Vincent in shock.
Rodger found his voice somehow, though it was rough and flat. "You
can't be serious."

        Kyrie gritted her teeth,
trying to remain calm. Too much, it was all just too fucking much.
"No other choice."

        There was a lot that
Rodger wanted to respond to that with. Most of it would probably
have turned out to be a collection of expletives that would make Quistis
blush--but more importantly, it was the personally important things that
sprang to mind. The thought that he could lose her, lose that very
thing that had completely turned his life around, that meant more to him
than anything else ever possibly could... and from one of their own hands...
It made him feel sick. He knew that if it got to that point,
that she wouldn't be her anymore, but... that didn't make anything
feel any better. He kept his mouth shut and his jaw clenched, trying
to get control of himself. An outburst of any kind sure as hell wouldn't
help matters.

        Cloud took a very deep breath,
the picture of having to carry out this ordeal... But he knew Jenova
didn't fuck around. If this happened, if all of this actually came
to be as it seemed to be headed... He shook his head sadly.
He'd killed Sephiroth once. A former... well, "friend" wasn't quite
the word. But this, all of this, every single part of this was agonizing.
Too familiar in one way, and not enough in another..

        The words, "It's supposed
to be over." hitched in Kyrie's own throat before she could
speak them. Of course it was--it was all supposed to be over by now.
But they all knew that. "Why'd I have to bite that asshole."

        Not a question. Vincent
bit down just slightly on his tongue, as if reminding himself his words
to her would matter. "It's a good defense. Very unexpected."
- 6
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Retribution Nor Redemption